


Memories on Repeat

by Entwinedlove



Series: The Great October Challenge 2017 [77]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwinedlove/pseuds/Entwinedlove
Summary: Harry can stop whenever he wants to. Just one more hit.





	Memories on Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NaNo's Misfits's 31 Days of Fanfiction Challenge  
> day 27 prompt: substance use – alcohol, drugs, etc
> 
> [ ](https://i.imgur.com/Wblk1n8.jpg)

Harry pulled his head up from the pensieve, feeling the head rush of emotions rise up in his chest. It wasn't as strong as it used to be and the need to slip back into the basin to feel the rush it provided would hit sooner.

He used his wand and stirred up the memories in the pensieve, gathering them and placing them in the vial nearby. The cork that he used to stopper the vial was so worn part of it crumbled into the vial and the memories swirled around the disturbance as it felt through them, sinking to the bottom and sitting still, the small bit of falling inertia spent.

Harry slumped in his chair and glanced around him. To his left was the empty crisps bag and an empty fizzy drink can. There were more vials, more memories in disarray in a small basket to his right. The writing one some were so old that it was faded and no one else would be able to decipher the scrawl there, but Harry had seen each memory so often, he knew just with a glance which vial held which memory. He had no need of reading the markings left on the vials.

The rush had faded and he was left feeling empty and apathetic. In the back of his mind, thoughts swirled but nothing came to the forefront as he relaxed. He spent a half hour with no thoughts in his head, floating on the bliss of nothing that came after the head rush of pensieve use.

Ginny. The thoughts slammed back into him full force and he bent in half where he sat, clutching his hands against his stomach at the pain they caused. Ginny and the kids were gone. Gone to the Burrow. Gone from his life.

His own fault. Everything was his fault. The war. All the deaths. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape, Remus, Tonks, Colin. As each name flashed in his mind his mind spun with all the myriad of ways that he could have prevented each death.

He could have not taught the younger children in Dumbledore's army. He could have told Remus and Tonks to hide, to run away. He could have interrupted Snape and Voldemort in the Shrieking Shack. He could have stopped Snape, sacrificed himself to protect Dumbledore. He could have killed Bellatrix, could have used curses, could have made himself more of a target. He could have not been born.

He winced. He should have died. He did die. And it was over now. He couldn't. He'd tried. He'd cast the Killing Curse at himself. It hadn't worked. Used Snape's slicing hex on his wrists, but Hermione had found him and taken care of him.

He pushed the pensieve away. He could stop. He could. He just had to try.

He got up from his chair. He took the crisps package and the can to the rubbish bin. He walked out of the room. He used the loo and after a glance in the mirror decided to shower. He showered, using the hottest water he could stand to try and stop his thoughts from returning again and again to his shortcomings. He used his wand to shave the shaggy scruff from his face. He looked in the foggy mirror when he was done and took a deep breath. He was okay.

There were purple smudges under his bloodshot eyes. When was the last time he'd slept? His stomach growled and he left the loo. In the kitchen, his eyes fell on the words Ginny had painted on the kitchen wall over the table. _Meals & Memories are made here._

Memories. He drew a sharp breath. He wouldn't. His eyes darted to the study where he kept the pensieve. There was an itch up his spine. Something that he couldn't scratch with his hands or anything other than watching another memory. Just a short one...

He bit his lip and dug his jagged nails into his palm. No, he shouldn't. He was doing something. What? What was it he needed to do? He looked around the room he was in, trying to think of anything other than the pensieve and the memories. He could see the short little scene he would watch. It played out in front of his open eyes. The last time he'd seen Remus alive, congratulating him on Teddy—Teddy, the name rang in his head, there was something he needed to do for Teddy—yelling at Remus for running, for not being responsible. It stabbed at something in his chest. He wasn't being responsible for his own children, who was he to say anything to Remus? If only he could go back; if only he could change it. _Run Remus, take your family and run. You're too important to die for me._

Harry shook his head, dispelling the scene from his vision. He could see the swirl of the memories in the pensieve at the motion, could see the moving shapes and shadows in the corner of his eyes. He tried to ignore the movement in his vision and swallowed. He knew it was a symptom of his addiction. Knew he needed another hit.

He looked around the kitchen anyway, opening the cupboards and the fridge but nothing looked appetising. All he craved, all he wanted was to fall back into the pensieve. He found another crisps packet. The crisps in it were stale and much too salty for his taste but he didn't care. He grabbed another fizzy drink and returned to his chair. He poked through the vials of memories, deciding on a longer one and tipped the vial into the pensieve, feeling the anticipation curl in his gut just as the strand of memory whirled in the basin.

He could stop. He knew he could. One day. Just... not yet. He was sure there was still more to learn from the memories.

He would, he promised himself. He took a deep breath, savouring the wait, the surge of adrenaline, the tingling up his spine as he watched the memories spin and swirl in front of him. He'd stop tomorrow, he promised, and then he dipped his face in the basin and was lost again to the world around him.


End file.
